Healing Grace
by Lanthiriel25
Summary: When Jefferson falls seriously ill during one of their trips into the forest, Grace is left alone and scared, trying to find a way to help her beloved father before it's too late.


Summary: When Jefferson falls seriously ill during one of their trips into the forest, Grace is left alone and scared, trying to find a way to help her beloved father before it's too late.

Warnings: Not so much a warning, I don't think, but be aware that this story contains a child's frantic distress at the illness of a parent and being left alone to figure out how to help them. Also, possibly inaccurate descriptions of illness and treatment; I tried my best but I'm not a medical professional.

Disclaimer: OUAT and associated characters belong to ABC Studios. Writing belongs to me.

AN: As much as I want to give Jefferson and Grace as many happy family times in the Enchanted Forest as I can, I know that life there would not have always been easy. But, despite the difficult times, I like to think that the selfless love between a family, between Jefferson and Grace, would help them survive these hard times, caring about each other so much and doing what they needed to to keep each other safe.

Hope you enjoy - reviews are much appreciated :)

* * *

Healing Grace

_By Lanthiriel25_

Feeling the world tilt around him, Jefferson stumbled, bracing himself on the nearest tree, the bark rough and cool under his hot palm. He rested his head against the back of his hand for a moment, letting his equilibrium re-centre, taking deep, steadying breaths as the dizziness faded.

"Papa?" Grace asked uncertainly, her worry clear in her voice.

Gingerly righting himself, Jefferson looked up to see his daughter watching him with concerned eyes, her hand coming to rest on his arm in a gesture of support, offering her help if he needed it.

"I'm alright, sweetheart," he reassured her with a weak smile, tugging ineffectually at his cravat in an attempt to cool down. "Here, take the basket. Go and gather what you can from this clearing. Let me just sit here for a moment; I'll catch up with you."

Grace hesitated, clearly not fully believing her father's words, her hand hovering on his sleeve, but she took the proffered basket.

"On you go," Jefferson encouraged gently as he carefully lowered himself onto the single tree stump. "I'll be right here."

"Ok, Papa," she agreed with a kind smile of her own, gaze lingering on him for a moment, assessing, before turning away to her task, scrambling through the undergrowth, hunting for pockets of the precious fungi.

Jefferson sat on the lonely tree stump, trying to keep his nausea at bay and trying to keep track of which of the three Graces he saw was the real one. He screwed his eyes shut, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow with a quivering hand. He knew he probably should have stayed home, but Grace had been looking forward to coming out with him, and he needed to gather as many mushrooms as he could for the coming market. It was getting harder and harder to make a living, to give Grace everything she needed, so he couldn't afford to miss a day of foraging simply because he felt a bit under the weather.

He knew he had made a mistake as the colour drained from his vision, the soft sounds of Grace's light footsteps through the undergrowth, the crackle of the leaves crunching under her boots, her cheerful humming, disappearing under the loud ringing in his ears. He was burning up, everything swirling sickeningly around him as he felt the world around him fading away.

"Grace…?" he tried weakly before his eyes fell closed and he felt the ground rushing towards him, slipping from the tree stump into a bed of fallen leaves.

Hearing the sudden thump from behind her, Grace spun around, seeing her father lying unmoving amongst the undergrowth.

"Papa!" Grace cried, dropping her basket without a second thought, mushrooms tumbling to the ground, spilling across the forest floor. She ran as fast as she could, expertly jumping over logs and navigating the tangling creeper plants to reach her father. Her hood fell back as she ran, bobbing against her back as she vaulted the last tree stump, falling to her knees beside the prone body of her Papa.

"Papa! Papa!"

Leaning over her father's still body, Grace gripped his shoulders tightly, shaking him, trying to get a response. His head lolled at the movement but he didn't stir, not even a flicker of an eyelash. His breath was coming fast and ragged, the laboured sound scaring Grace as she tried to think what to do.

"Please, Papa! Wake up! You have to wake up!"

Shuffling forward, her clothes rustling in the dried leaves around her on the forest floor, she bent over him, peering at his expressionless face. Running her small hands over his cheeks, she brushed his hair from his clammy forehead. She framed his face, like she did when she had something really important to say, needed her Papa to listen.

"Papa, please. Wake up! Open your eyes, Papa! Please!"

Her voice wavered, the fear closing up her throat, needing to see her Papa's bright, blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her. But he didn't respond. Twisting on her knees, she desperately glanced around the clearing, looking for something that could help her, help her Papa. She saw nothing.

"No!" whispered Grace desperately, her heart thudding painfully in her rib cage. "What do I do? Papa? What should I do?"

Suddenly a thought burned hot and bright and hopeful through her terror. She knew who would help her! She didn't want to leave her Papa, lying sick and alone in the forest, but what choice did she have?

"I won't be long," she reassured her father, telling herself that he could hear her, that he'd understand, before scrambling to her feet, gathering up her skirts and running towards her neighbour's house as fast as she could.

* * *

"Tobias! Sara! Are you home?! Tobias! Please, you have to help me! Papa's sick! Sara!"

Throwing herself at their door, she pounded her fist against the wood, her panic and fear over-riding her manners. When no answer came, she let herself in, quickly searching the house for either of her friendly neighbours. They weren't home, and she had no idea where they might be.

Dashing back outside the house, door clanging behind her, Grace skidded to halt, a half-formed plan growing in her mind. She knew she couldn't leave her Papa lying out there in the woods; she had to find a way to get him home, where he would be safe and warm, somewhere where a healer could come and look at him. She knew she would probably get into trouble for it; she wasn't allowed near Jasper if there wasn't an adult around, and it was wrong to take things that weren't hers without asking. She chewed her lip in indecision. But this was an emergency! she argued with herself. Quickly making up her mind, she ran around to the back of their house where she knew her neighbour's small cart-pony often grazed.

"Come on, Jasper. I need your help!"

Jasper whinnied in greeting, trotting over to her as far as his tether would allow. With nimble fingers, Grace swiftly harnessed the sand-coloured pony up, hooking up the smaller of the two carts which Tobias and Sara owned. Untying Jasper's tether, she gripped the reins and led him through the forest towards her Papa, hoping against hope he would be where she left him and that he was still with her.

* * *

As she entered the clearing, she saw that her father was indeed where she had left him, but the eerie stillness frightened her. The terrifying wheezing of her father's breaths was gone. No! He couldn't be…! Dropping Jasper's reins, she sprinted to his side, scraping her shoes, plants snagging in her hem as she ran. Throwing herself to the ground beside him, pressing her ear over his chest, she frantically listened for his heartbeat, the soft, reassuring 'thump, thump, thump' which soothed her to sleep after she had a nightmare, the sound of safety and of home.

There was nothing.

"No! Papa!"

Sitting back up, sheer terror coursing through her, she grasped her father's collar, giving him another quick shake, desperately hoping to rouse him. But it was no use. She frantically undid his coat and began tearing at his waistcoat, her trembling fingers fumbling at the tarnished buttons. Ripping it open, she pushed aside his maroon cravat, pressing her palm over his heart. Feeling nothing, she leant down to listen for his heartbeat once more, now only the single layer of shirt acting as a barrier. She held her breath as she listened hard. There! It was still beating. Slow and quiet but definitely still beating!

She had to act fast; his heart beat weak and thready, nothing at all like it should sound. Her Papa needed a healer! Now! Quickly getting to her feet, she guided Jasper and the cart up alongside her father, manoeuvring it carefully to get the back of cart as close to him as possible without him being trampled. She wasn't sure how she was going to get him onto the cart, but she had to try. Unbolting the low rear end of the cart, she lowered it to the ground, forming a small ramp.

Rounding her father's body so she was standing behind his head, she stooped double to grasp his collar in white-knuckled fingers and began to pull, slowly but carefully dragging him up the ramp. She nearly fell as her boots caught on the uneven wood, walking backwards and hunched over as she was, muscles straining, lungs heaving with the impossible effort. But after several minutes she'd managed to safely get her father on to the cart, breathing heavily from the exertion. Vaulting over the side, she bolted up the back and hastily led Jasper, with his precious cargo, back to her house. Hoping and praying with every step that her Papa would hold on.

* * *

Getting her Papa inside was harder than she'd thought, but with a strength she didn't know she possessed, Grace managed to get him onto the bed. Feeling the heat burning off him, she pulled his cravat away, tugging his collar open as best she could. Hurrying to the bowl of cool water her Papa had collected that morning from the well, she dipped a rag into it, wringing it out, before returning to her father's side, laying it on his brow. Carefully pressing the wet fabric to his cheeks and neck, Grace whispered reassurances and soothing nonsense to her Papa, promising him she'd find him a healer, that he'd be alright.

Right, a healer. Chewing her lip, her forehead creasing in thought, Grace felt her pounding heart falter. A healer. A healer she knew they couldn't afford. Checking their coin box, Grace found it devastatingly empty, not even half a copper to speak of. Slamming the box down on the table in frustration, Grace hung her head, gripping the wooden surface. She had to think of something; maybe the healer would be willing to trade? Dashing around the room, skimming the shelves and rummaging through cupboards, Grace tried to find something she thought a healer would accept.

After several minutes of searching, Grace wrenched open the drawer containing their spare candles. Two of them, brand new. Picking them up, one in each hand, Grace sat back on her heels, looking between them. Candles. Everyone needed candles. Surely, the healer would accept them!

Glancing over at her Papa, however, she bit her lip. Her Papa was the most important person in the world, more valuable to her than she could ever say. Surely then, the healer would charge more for his services, to heal someone so special? She knew that healers who worked for kings and queens were far richer than those that didn't, earning more money for their efforts because they treated royalty. And her Papa was more important than all the kings and queens in the land!

The candles would never be enough! She needed something more valuable. Scanning their humble home, her gaze caught on the small table in the middle of the room. Her tea-set resting innocently on top. Grace set the candles aside, talking a step forward, glancing between her Papa and the china. It was her most prized possession, the most treasured thing she owned. She remembered the countless tea-parties she'd had with her father and her stuffed friends. The smiles and the laughter. The way she couldn't help but giggle when her Papa pretended to loudly slurp his tea before apologising most profusely and sincerely to the other guests for his terrible manners. Her cherished tea-set. The most precious thing in their house. It had to be enough to persuade the healer to come, hadn't it?

Knowing there nothing more valuable she could offer, Grace hurried over, retrieving the wooden box from under the table. She started to carefully lift the cups into it, when a thought struck her. It wouldn't do for any of them to get cracked or scratched on her journey into town. Spying the small pile of rags and old clothes in the corner of the room, which her father kept for patching and repairs, she dug out a piece of faded, green material. Carefully lining the box and wrapping the more fragile pieces in the fabric, Grace finished packing up her tea-set. Her heart panged at the thought of having no more tea-parties, but her Papa was worth more than a hundred tea-parties, more than a thousand; she could live without them, but she couldn't live without her Papa.

Once she was satisfied the china would survive the trip, Grace ran back to her father's side. Dabbing the damp cloth to his forehead once more, she pressed a kiss on his cheek, a tear splashing onto his face.

"I'll be right back, Papa," she whispered. "Don't worry, I'll bring the healer, I promise. I'll be quick as I can. Please be ok."

With that, she quickly lifted her precious box into her arms and ran to the door. Turning back in the doorway, she looked at her Papa lying so still on the bed, his feet hanging off the end. A soft, "I love you, Papa," cut through the silence of the house as she pulled the door closed behind her, sprinting off through the wood and into town, making her way as quickly as she could to Healer Isaac's house.

* * *

Skidding round the corner on the smooth cobbles, her hair whipping around her face as she stumbled to a stop, Grace adjusted her hold on her box, reaching out with one hand to lean against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

Taking a moment for the stars dancing across her vision to slowly vanish, Grace straightened herself up. Making sure she had a good grip on the box, she strode over to the door, raising a small, clenched fist and knocked firmly, hoping the healer was home.

* * *

Isaac was startled from his reading by a loud banging at his door.

"What in the world…?!" he exclaimed, closing his book and hurrying to answer.

Pulling open the door, Isaac was surprised to see a young girl standing before him, hair tangled and wind-swept around her face, a face which was tear-stained, worry and hope warring in her eyes.

"Healer Isaac?" she asked earnestly as soon as she saw him.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

Grace took a deep breath, launching into her explanation of what had happened to her Papa, her words tripping over each other in her haste to tell the healer everything. She explained his symptoms and how she'd managed to get him home, but he needed help.

"It's just me and my Papa," she continued, broken voice brimming with emotion. "He's all I have and I love him so much. I can't lose him! Will you help us? Please? We don't have much money, so I can't pay you, but… I have this tea set…"

She glanced up, holding out her box for him to see, displaying the contents, trying to read the healer's reaction. Was she explaining this properly? Was he going to help her?

"I don't…" he began.

Scared he was going to refuse her, mistaking his concerned frown for one of displeasure, Grace desperately continued, breath hitching, begging for the sake of her father.

"Please, sir! It's a very good tea set. My Papa made it, and it's very special, just like him. Please, take it, and come heal my Papa."

Isaac could see the raw pain in the child's eyes, reading her anguish in every move and gesture, noting the way that whilst she freely and willingly offered her tea set to save her Papa, her fingers gripped the box, somehow hesitant to let it go. He couldn't take her tea set from her, the one her Papa had gifted her. Isaac's heart twisted. But neither could he appear to start working for free; he'd lose his livelihood. But he knew he couldn't turn this girl away. Gaze snagging on something in her cherished box, he made up his mind.

"Well, alas," he explained regretfully, grey eyes sad. "I already have a tea set, although not as beautiful as this one, I must admit."

Grace's hopeful face fell.

"But it's all I have to trade, sir. Please," her voice heart-breakingly quiet, desperate.

She lifted up the box once more, offering it out in silent appeal. The forlorn clinking of the little cups and saucers adding their voices to the young girl's distraught and heartfelt plea.

"I'm sorry," came the reply, causing Grace's heart to sink down into her boots; she'd failed, failed her Papa. "But… Wait a moment. What's this?"

Isaac's fingers came out to brush against the green fabric which spilled over one corner of the box.

"Oh," she replied with a sad sniff, following his line of sight. "That's just one of my old pinafores to stop anything from breaking. Papa says I'm growing too quickly and he can't keep up!"

"Truly? Well, there's a stroke of luck! Because I was just thinking to myself how my little niece is in need of a new pinafore and this one looks like it would fit her perfectly. How would you feel about trading me your pinafore and I'll come and take a look at your Papa, see what I can do for him?"

It took a moment for Grace to understand, for the meaning of his words to sink in. When they did, her heart felt fit to burst, a wide, hopeful grin splitting across her face. He was going to help her Papa! She couldn't believe it!

"Yes! Yes, of course! Thank you!"

Setting down her box on the ground, she hastily knelt, quickly moving the tea set so she could pull out the fabric.

"Here," she said, eagerly offering out the material, gathering up her box as soon as the healer had gratefully and carefully accepted the old pinafore.

Deliberately hanging the garment on a hook by the door, the healer collected his coat and bag, closing the door behind him, with a kindly smile for the brave and resourceful girl.

"Lead the way."

* * *

Grace stood back, shuffling her feet, wringing her hands distractedly as she watched Healer Isaac work. She watched him listen to her Papa's heart and open his eyes with his thumb to check his pupils. She chewed her lip, craning her neck to see as the healer bent over her father, holding some smelling salts under his nose, to no avail. Feeling his patient's temperature further rising, Isaac instructed the girl to fetch the water pail so he could try to douse the fever out of him. As she hurried to obey, Isaac manhandled Jefferson up so he could remove his coat and waistcoat. Asking Grace to also strip him of his boots, the healer got to work trying to bring down the soaring fever which was putting too much strain on the man's heart and body.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, Jefferson staying worryingly unresponsive through most of it, the fever broke. Pouring some medicine into Jefferson's mouth, supporting him and hoping his swallow reflex would kick in, Isaac asked Grace to collect all the blankets she could find. He was so relieved the fever had broken, Jefferson's violently flushed cheeks turning back to their natural colour, but he'd lost too many patients to the sudden crash, their temperature plummeting dangerously, not to be prepared.

Grace returned with a mountain of blankets, which were practically spilling out of her arms, piled so high so she could barely see around them.

"Will these be enough?" she asked anxiously, ready to run to every house in the wood to beg, steal or borrow some more if her Papa needed them.

"These will do just fine," Isaac assured, helping the girl to pile them on the bed, arranging them around her father.

Hours passed, Isaac continually monitoring his patient, with a nervous Grace looking on, asking him about everything he was doing, how she could help. Eventually, Jefferson's ragged breathing steadied. Checking his pulse and finding it strong and stable, Isaac felt the man's forehead, relieved when the temperature appeared to be in the normal range. Satisfied that he'd done all he possibly could, hopeful that Jefferson would indeed make a full recovery, provided he let his body recuperate properly and take it easy for it few weeks, Isaac left Grace to her vigil at her father's side.

"Speak to him," he encouraged. "He might be able to hear you now."

Nodding, Grace leant forward, clutching her father's hand in hers.

"Come on, Papa," she entreated. "Who will tell me bedtime stories and laugh at my silly jokes if you don't wake up? Who will teach me all the things I need to know? Who'll play dress up with me and sing me lullabies? Who'll…who'll be the guest of honour at my tea parties? Just try, Papa. I know you can do it. Please, try and wake up."

Grace thought she saw his eye lids flicker, his head twitching slightly towards her voice.

"That's it, Papa. Please wake up. You can do it. It's me. It's your Grace."

Blue, hazy eyes blinked blearily up at her.

"G...Grace?"

Grace beamed at her Papa's voice, sounding so faint and hoarse, but she thought it was the best sound she'd ever heard.

"Papa! You're awake!"

Throwing herself at his chest, she gripped him tight, relieved, wrung out sobs producing hot tears which soaked into his already damp shirt.

Jefferson slowly, determinedly lifted his arm, resting it on her back, holding her close.

"Grace," he whispered, not exactly sure what had happened, but taking comfort in the fact his daughter was with him, yet hating the fact she seemed so upset.

Wanting to give both father and daughter a little privacy, Isaac slipped out to refill the water pail from the well; he would have plenty of time to check on his patient later.

"Grace? I…? What…happened?"

Jefferson's head was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Every muscle ached and he felt so tired, right down to his bones. He remembered waking up feeling unwell but being determined to carry on with the plans for the day as normal, but nothing after that. Why was he in bed, drowning under what felt like the entire house's worth of blankets?

Sitting up, Grace tucked her hair behind her ear, searching her father's confused face. Chewing her lip, her hands twisting in her lap, Grace glanced down, quietly, haltingly, explaining how he had become so sick he had collapsed in the words. As she told the story, guilt burned heavy in Jefferson's chest, for putting his baby girl through that, cursing his stubbornness. Using as much energy as he could muster, he reached out and wrapped her hand in his, both of them needing that connection. Sniffing, Grace trapped his hand between hers, kissing his fingers, before holding it to her cheek.

"Healer Isaac gave you some medicine. He got your fever down and he said you are going to be alright. _Are_ you going to be alright, Papa? How do you feel?"

"Like I could sleep for a week?" he murmured with a small smile, gaze fixed on his beautiful daughter, looking for all the world like his little guardian angel.

"So…no racing through the forest and playing 'hide and seek' tomorrow then?" Grace asked with a twitch of a smile, trying to lighten the mood, ignoring the way the tears choked her voice, making it tremble.

"Ah, so that's why you were so desperate for me to wake up; you only need me to play 'hide and seek' with."

"It's true," she joked with a tearful nod, her voice cracking with relief at hearing him tease her again.

"I knew it!" he quipped back, weakly, his aching chest making it hard to breathe deeply. His eyes drooped closed once again, the effort to keep them open for so long becoming too much.

Seeing him slip back into unconsciousness, Grace panicked, the nightmare of having her father lying so still and unresponsive still so close and terrifying. She needed her father to understand what she meant.

"Papa! Papa, you know I was teasing you, don't you? I need you, not because of what you do for me, but because you're my Papa and I love you! I don't what I'd do without you!"

Jefferson eyes flickered open once more, an unsteady hand reaching out to weakly caress her cheek.

"Hush, it's quite alright, my Grace. I know. I love you too. I'm just…so tired."

"It's ok," Grace smiled, relieved, brushing his messy hair from his damp forehead. "Rest now, Papa."

She carefully adjusted the pillow which supported his head, pulling up the blanket and smoothing it down, her fingers continuing to absently stroke the material as she watched her father drift back into sleep. Seeing his hand resting over the covers, she settled down beside him, not wanting him to be alone, winding her fingers into his, holding his hand as he slept.

"We'll be ok, Papa. You'll see. I'm going to look after you."

* * *

"Now, I'm leaving Healer Grace in charge. Do everything she says and you'll be back on your feet and running round the forest again in no time."

Isaac fixed Jefferson, who was sitting propped up in bed, with a stern look, wanting to impress the need for rest on his patient. He finished packing away his things into his leather bag, leaving behind the medicine Jefferson would need to ease his journey back to full health, glad that this particular story had a happy ending.

"Thank you. For everything." Jefferson looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, searching for a way to say what he needed to to the healer, shame running through him. "I don't… I don't have anything to pay you with right now. But after the next market, maybe…? I mean, that is, unless… Would you accept…?"

Isaac held up a hand to stop the man's offer.

"Not to worry, Jefferson. Your daughter and I have already struck a bargain. And a very fair one at that."

Jefferson turned to Grace who was busy placing the new medicine bottles on the narrow shelf. A flash of panic spiked through him, wondering what his little girl had done.

"Grace?"

She turned away from her task to answer her father's question, her face solemn as she remembered her worry and fear.

"I didn't know what to do," she explained. "We didn't have any coins to pay for a healer so I found the most valuable thing I knew of, my tea set, and offered it to Healer Isaac in return for making you better."

"Your…" Jefferson's eye stung at the revelation, his throat closing up with emotion, voice cracking. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. "Your tea-set?"

He couldn't believe it. His girl, his precious, little girl had done this for him. He knew how much she loved that mismatched collection of china, how much those little teapots, bowls, cups and saucers meant to her. That she'd traded them all away, for him… It made his heart swell with awe and love, and no small measure of regret.

"Oh, sweetie," he whispered, holding out his hand in invitation, which Grace gladly took with a smile as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, knowing her trade would have been more than worth it had Healer Isaac accepted.

"But, regrettably, I already had a lovely tea-set," the healer interjected.

Jefferson frowned, confused, looking over at the healer. "So…what did…?"

Grace bounced slightly on the bed, bursting to explain to her father what had happened. "You'll never guess!"

Jefferson raised an expectant eyebrow, anxiously waiting for her to explain.

"My old pinafore, Papa!" she exclaimed, beaming. "The green one. The one I grew out of and you were saving for patches and mending! I used it to keep my tea-set safe in the box, and Healer Isaac saw it and liked it. He said his niece needed a new one so could he possibly trade his services for that instead? I said yes!"

Realisation dawned on Jefferson, bringing with it a happy glow, as Grace wrapped her arms around her Papa. Jefferson looked meaningfully at Isaac as he hugged his daughter back, knowing the town healer had no such niece and knowing exactly what he'd done and why.

"Thank you," Jefferson mouthed silently, grateful that his daughter hadn't had to part with her treasured tea-set thanks to Isaac's generosity and white lie.

Isaac simply shrugged, a twinkle in his eye, feigning ignorance. Times were hard, but the only payment he really needed was to see this little family whole and happy.

"Well, I'd better be going. Make sure you listen to Healer Grace, you hear!"

"Understood," Jefferson smiled. "Thank you.

"You're welcome."

Collecting his hat and case, Isaac let himself out, leaving to the sound of Grace scolding her Papa for trying to reach the cup of water on his own, and to let her get it for him. He chuckled; Jefferson would be pampered and mother-henned until he could bear it no longer!

* * *

"This is payback, isn't it? For all the times I've made you take your medicine," Jefferson grumbled as Grace rummaged through the small phials of tonic, the quiet tinkling of the glass drifting over to where he lay, propped up in bed.

"Yes," Grace agreed cheerfully, finding the phial she was looking for and bringing it over to sit on the low stool she'd situated at her father's bedside. "But also, as you so often remind me, it'll help you feel better," her voice was teasing and playful, before morphing into something quieter, more vulnerable. "And I need you to get better, Papa. Please?"

Holding out the spoon, which she'd only half-filled with the green medicine to be sure she wouldn't spill any, she fixed him with her best pleading expression.

"Alright, if that's what Healer Grace orders," Jefferson obligingly conceded, heart aching at her final words. "As long as I'm allowed a honey drop afterwards," he teased.

Grace laughed, holding out her other hand, opening her fist to reveal said honey drop in her palm.

"Always prepared!" he joked. "But there's only one. And I think my wonderful healer needs a treat of her own for looking after me so well!"

"Really?" Grace asked with a disbelieving grin.

"Really," Jefferson smiled indulgently, revelling in the delight such a declaration brought to his daughter.

Carefully setting aside the spoon, not spilling a single drop, Grace leapt of the stool and retrieved the honey drop box from its shelf. Opening the lid, her fingers hovered over the small stash of treats, before choosing one and bounding back to her father. Picking up the medicine-filled spoon, she held it out to Jefferson.

"Ready?"

Opening his mouth, he screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of the taste. Grace quickly gave him the tonic, giggling at her Papa disgusted expression, his face twisted up as he swallowed.

"Eurgh! Yuck! Honey drop, please!"

Handing over the small sweet with a soft snicker, Grace popped her own into her mouth, enjoying the explosion of sweetness on her tongue. She climbed on the bed, laying down beside her Papa, snuggling into his side, both of them enjoying their candy, taking comfort in the fact that they were both there, together, and that they were both going to be just fine.

* * *

Jefferson woke to the sound of pacing, his arms empty. He frowned; it was still dark out, candles flickering around the room, illuminating their home. Scrubbing his eyes, he carefully pushed himself to sitting, taking a moment to let his head adjust to the apparently vast and disorientating change in altitude. Once the spinning had slowed, Jefferson was able to locate the source of the footsteps striding agitatedly across the floor.

"Grace?"

His daughter jumped, startled from her distracted pacing and muttering. Jefferson was sad to see the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, the lost, tired look in her eyes, the anger that burned in their depths.

Grace took a step towards him, before stopping herself, clenching her hands into fists and scowling, spinning where she stood and walking away, her hair tossing over her shoulder with the abrupt motion.

"Grace?" Jefferson tried again, more forcefully.

Grace turned furiously, a hundred and one emotions skittering across her features.

"You don't get to do that again! Do you understand?! You tell me to be careful and you tell me to be honest. But, Papa, you weren't! You weren't!" she cried out unhappily, all the heartache bursting out of her. Angry, frightened tears blurred her vision so her father was nothing more than a haze of colour. How could he do that her?!

Jefferson was stunned speechless. His Grace, his calm, fun-loving, sweet-tempered Grace, yelling and gesturing wildly; it broke his heart to see. This was his fault. He'd put her through so much and it had finally all come to a head, all her exhausted emotions tumbling down and shattering around her.

Despite still feeling somewhat light-headed, Jefferson couldn't leave his daughter like that, standing in the middle of the room, looking so forlorn and dejected. Staggering unsteadily over to her, he dropped to his knees, wiping her tears away and wrapping his arms around her. He half-expected to be pushed away, but instead he felt Grace throwing her arms around him almost bruisingly, returning the hug so tightly, as if afraid he'd disappear if she ever let go.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I was reckless and I was stupid. I never meant to hurt you, Grace. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Papa, I… I thought I was going to lose you! I was so scared!" Grace admitted into his shoulder, her grip ever tightening.

Jefferson rubbed his palm soothingly over her back, wishing he could take all of the pain and fear away.

"I know, baby. I know. And I'm so sorry I frightened you like that. But… I'm going to be ok. I'm ok."

"Truly?" Grace sniffed, pulling back, scrutinising her father's expression, judging the honesty of his words for herself.

Pulling his daughter's hankie out of her pocket and wiping her nose, Jefferson smiled.

"Yes. How could I be anything else with Healer Grace, the best healer in all the lands, looking after me!"

Pocketing the handkerchief, he reached out to tweak her nose, causing her to huff out a quiet chuckle, her fear and anger slowly evaporating in the face of her father's smiling face and teasing words.

"And, you know what?" her Papa continued, with a playful grin.

"What?" she asked, curious.

Jefferson smiled affectionately, before awkwardly standing, tucking her more securely into his side, walking them both back to the bed. Wrapping his arm around her, his fingers toyed absently with her hair as she settled.

"I am so proud of you, my Grace. So proud. You were very brave. Thank you for looking after me."

Grace tipped her head back so she could meet her father's eyes gazing down at her, soul glowing at his praise but not needing his thanks.

"I love you, Papa. I'm sorry for shouting. I'm glad you're ok."

Hugging her more tightly, Jefferson smiled fondly. Adjusting his arm around her so she was comfortable, her head tucked under his chin, fist twisted contentedly in his shirt, Jefferson pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

"No need to apologise, sweetie. And I love you too, Healer Grace."

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The End

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I hope you enjoyed this story; thank you for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated :)


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